


Ripples in the Surge

by shadowmaat



Series: A Bounty of Brothers [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2019-09-20 07:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17018256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: A collection of short pieces involving Surge Squad, Boba, and General Issa Mar.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'll be safe from the Tumblr Purge, but I wanted to make sure my stuff was backed up somewhere anyway.

“NOOOOOoooo!”

The high-pitched wail echoed through the barracks. Thumper hit the floor, blaster already in hand. Stitch dropped off the bunk above him, brandishing laser scalpels in each hand.

“Bo. Vod’ika, s’okay.”

The words were slurred with sleep, but they recognized Tooka’s voice. Exchanging a glance, they put their weapons away and headed for the corner of the room. 

Mimic was standing guard, his hair in disarray while Tooka was seated on Boba’s cot, rubbing circles on the sobbing boy’s back.

“It- it was awful!” Boba clung to Tooka. “Dad was running to me and- and he still chopped him down!”

The clones winced. Thumper reached up to rub the back of his head. They knew who “he” was and his actions were still hotly debated among them.

“And then he came after me!” Boba’s whole body trembled.

“Kriff, no,” Tooka said. “That’s never gonna happen, Bo. What happened on Geonosis was…”

“Was wrong.” Mimic’s jaw jutted out. “But General Windu’s got bigger problems to worry about now.”

“Yeah.” Thumper moved in to tousle Boba’s hair. “And you’ve got us, now. Brothers watch out for each other, yeah?”

Boba looked up at him, tears still shimmering in his eyes. “But… but he’s a general. And you have to obey him!”

“Not  _our_  general,” Mimic muttered, subsiding at Stitch’s glare.

“You’re safe now,” Stitch said, kneeling beside the cot. “And you’re part of the squad, right? Got the ink and everything.” 

He tapped the little drop on Boba’s temple. Tooka had sliced his way through the holonet researching the crest on Jango’s armor and discovered the drop signified a warrior’s willingness to lose every drop of blood to complete their mission. It seemed more than appropriate to the clones, who existed for that very purpose, and while Boba hadn’t- and hopefully wouldn’t- lose any blood, he’d lost something just as important. For him the squad decided it was more of a teardrop and symbolized mourning for those who had marched on ahead.

Boba nodded, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

“I’m part of the squad,” he said, voice wavering. “And Surge Squad means ah- aliit.”

Stitch smiled. “Family. Yeah.”

“We’re all aliit here, little nugget.” Tooka kissed the top of his head.

The sound of a throat clearing had them all turning to see Commander Smokey standing there with a mug full of steaming milk.

“I hate to interrupt,” he said, “but I remember that when the cadets got nightmares, sometimes what helped was a little something to settle the stomach.” The undamaged side of his mouth twitched up in a smile.

Boba pushed away from Tooka and held out his hands. Thumper and Stitch made room for Smokey, who handed over the mug and watched him drink it down.

“Better?”

Boba nodded, handing back the mug.

“Can I have some too, please?” Mimic wheedled, sounding just like Boba.

Smokey snorted. “Get your own, brat.”

Boba’s smile was wobbly, but there.

“Alright, everyone,” Smokey said. “Show’s over. Back to bed.”

The others started to return to their own bunks, but Boba maintained a tight hold on Tooka’s shirt, so the clone wrapped himself around the already-yawning boy and closed his eyes. Both were asleep in minutes.


	2. Just a Scratch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sentence prompt via slwalker: "It's just a scratch." AKA, Boba makes a new friend.

Stitch heard the tent flap moving aside and glanced up.

“Hey, Bo.” He smiled at the cadet- no, the youngling- standing in the entryway with his hands behind his back. “What brings you here?”

“I need some bandages,” Boba said. “For my arms.”

Stitch frowned. “Your arms? Why? What happened?”

“Nothing.” Boba scowled. “I just need them.”

“Bo, I can’t just give them to you without knowing-”

There was a crash outside followed by screaming and a guttural snarl. 

“Uh oh.” Suddenly wide-eyed and pale, Boba was backing towards the flaps.

Stitch was on his feet and moving in his direction.

“Um, never mind! I’m fine!”

Another crash, followed by more yelling, which contained a considerable amount of swearing.

“Bye!”

Stitch caught his arm before he could escape. Caught it and stared at the welter of scratches.

“Lemme go!”

“Bo, what the kriff-”

The tent flaps parted as a tan and black streak launched itself at Boba, knocking the boy to the floor.

Stitch had his blaster out and aimed before he realized that the thing wasn’t attacking him. In fact, Boba was  _laughing_.

“Spots, no! Down!”

It didn’t take long for the rest of the squad- and General Mar- to show up.

“I guess that explains the scratches,” Stitch said as Boba attempted to gather the large nexu kitten into his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stitch rescues a nexu kit (possibly the one from the previous chapter) and tells it how he got his name.

As a young cadet on Kamino Stitch had been fascinated with animals. He’d even managed to hatch a Kaminoan porglet once and had kept it for a few days before the longnecks caught on and had it removed as “unhygienic.” He hadn’t let it deter him and instead saw it as a challenge. He got better at sneaking things past their minders, a skill that would prove useful later in life.

At the moment, however, hanging off the side of a cliff with an orphaned nexu kit doing its damnedest to wriggle free of the pouch he’d made of his kama, he had to wonder if his brothers were right. Maybe he  _should_  leave well enough alone.

“Ey, Little Nipper, did I ever tell you how I earned my name?” He shifted his grip on the cliff face, managing to inch upwards and earning a high-pitched screech from the kitten.

“Right, see, I’d rescued a sea eel a couple weeks back. Kept it in a tank.” 

His right foot found a rock and he surged up a bit more.

“Some of my brothers from the 201- that’s the unit we were technically part of back- anyway, they were giving me shit about it and one of ‘em, Stinker, thought it’d be funny to- kriff!”

His left foot slipped, but he caught himself before they fell. The kitten screamed its tiny outrage.

“Sorry. Right, anyway, long story short it was a prank gone wrong and Blackie, my eel, wound up dead. I got revenge, though.”

His right hand inched up, fingers feeling along the cliff face until they found a crevice and dug in.

“See, Blackie wasn’t just a pet, I was using him to test out possible medical uses.”

The top of the cliff was getting closer, but Stitch was sweating heavily in his armor and was afraid the kitten would tear a hole through his kama before he could get her to safety.

“I snuck over to Stinker’s bunk that night while he was asleep and smeared a bit of the eel slime adhesive I’d been working on onto his mouth.”

He paused to catch his breath. The rest of his squad should be on their way back by now after their bug-planting mission.

“Didn’t even know if it’d work or not, but come morning Stinker’s muffled screams woke us up.” He grinned inside his helmet. “I told him I’d stitched his mouth shut for killing Blackie and wouldn’t undo it til he apologized. Freaked the kriff outta everyone. Thing is-”

“Stitch?”

Stitch froze, tilting his head until he could just see the figure at the top of the cliff.

“General?” His heart plummeted. If the General was involved he was going to be in so much trouble.

“Need any help?” She sounded cheerful. He wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one.

“That... would be nice, sir. I, uh, have a passenger.”

“So I see.”

A rope hit the cliff face beside him. Maneuvering carefully he caught hold of it and started hauling himself up. The kit yowled and he felt the scrape of claws against his armor.

“Are you going to tell me what happened next?” 

Stitch almost let go of the rope. “You, uh, heard that?”

Issa’s laughter floated down to him. “I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“You do?” He swallowed, wondering if she was kidding or not. His studies of Nautolan anatomy hadn’t had much to say on the subject, but given some of the things he’d been talking about before he’d started this story he had to hope she hadn’t heard him.

“Yeah, well,” he said. “There isn’t much left to it. The glue worked, everyone was freaked out, Stinker wrote me a very heartfelt apology, and then I, uh, smeared on a bit of acetone to dissolve the adhesive and everything was fine.”

He wasn’t going to mention that the acetone was based on fish urine or that “a bit” was actually “a lot” and Stinker had been stuck with the taste for a few days afterward. He’d never bothered Stitch again, though, and his own nickname had been, well, sealed.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Issa said, and before he could reply to that he found himself hauled up the final distance by invisible hands and set on his feet.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry-”

With an almighty shriek the nexu kit finished shredding Stitch’s kama and hit the ground running. Issa hopped out of its way.

“I don’t think I want to get on her bad side, either.” She grinned at him.

“No, sir.” He pulled off his helmet, slicking his hair back as he returned her smile. “Speaking as your medic, I wouldn’t advise it. Ah, thanks for the rescue.”

“Just returning the favor.” She reached out to ruffle his hair. “And if you don’t want the others to know where your name comes from, don’t worry; my lips are sealed.”

Groaning, he followed his general back to camp.


	4. Nothing Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooka is afraid there's something wrong with him, but a chance encounter reassures him.

Tooka liked hanging out at 79′s and catching up with brothers he rarely had a chance to see, but it always left him feeling like there was something wrong with him. There was a discussion taking place behind him where several clones were pining after their Generals. Tooka  _might_ be willing to admit he loved Mar, but not like  _that_. She was more like an older sister, or what he imagined a mother might be like. But sex? No. Not that any other options sounded better to him. There were always people hanging out in 79′s who were willing to hook up with a clone, either for money or bragging rights. Tooka had never taken advantage of it and found the attention uncomfortable. Judging from the stories he’d heard, though, sex was supposed to be incredible and everyone seemed eager to have it. Everyone but him.

He drained the rest of his beer and sent a quick hand signal to Stitch to let him know he was leaving, then headed out the door. There was a transit stop nearby that would drop him off at the barracks and he felt a sudden need for some relative quiet.

“Heya, big boy,” a voice purred behind him. “Lookin’ for some fun?”

He whirled, reaching for a blaster that wasn’t there. The woman raised her hands in mock surrender, grinning at him. She had green and yellow hair and an eyepatch over her left eye.

“Trix.” Huffing, he turned back around to continue his escape. “Thought you had some deal going on in the outer rim.”

“Didn’t pan out,” she said, falling into place beside him. “What’s got my favorite Tookie cat’s fur up?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “I need to get back to the barracks.”

She was silent for a moment. “You wanna talk about it? Need me to kill someone? I offer a discount for friends.”

He snorted. “No, nothing like that. I’m fine. What are you doing down here, anyway? Slumming it at 79′s?”

“79′s?” She scrunched her nose. “Oh, the bar? Nah, there’s a caf house a block down that I like to hang in whenever I’m here. Good place to find jobs sometimes, too.”

He side-eyed her, but decided it wasn’t worth questioning. Besides, they’d reached the transit stop.

“Good luck, then.”

She stopped with him. “Want me to give you a lift back? There’s room for two on my swoop.”

“No thanks, I’m fine.” He stared at the sign, hoping she’d take the hint.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her; hell, on the mission to Murkhana he’d even let her color in the spots and stripes carved in his hair. What he didn’t trust was her timing or her sudden interest in him.

“Humor me, then.”

He looked at her and realized she was frowning, her body shifting from foot to foot.

“This place is giving off a bad vibe tonight,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I’d... appreciate the company.”

Surprised, he scanned their surroundings. The streets were still busy this early in the evening, but he couldn’t sense any threats. Still, it changed the context of their meeting and his protective instincts kicked in.

“Fine,” he said, “But it’s drop off only. Got it?”

“HA!” She grinned at him, all trace of concern gone. “Yeah, that’s fine. Come on!”

She grabbed his sleeve and started dragging him down the sidewalk. Tooka realized he’d just been duped, but it was too late to back out now.

The bike was still chained up and seemed to still have all its parts, which in this neighborhood was something of a miracle. General Mar had hired her in part because of her “luck” and he’d seen an example of it working on Murkhana, but this took it to a whole new level.

“Here,” she said, handing him a helmet covered with “Heroes of the Republic” stickers from Biscuit Baron. With a profound sigh of resignation he put it on and climbed on to the swoop bike behind her.

“Hold on tight, furball!”

Tooka grabbed her around the waist just in time. She shot into traffic without appearing to look. Despite his initial assessment that she was trying to get them both killed, it didn’t take him long to figure out her pattern; he’d spot a hole in traffic and suddenly they’d be occupying it. He even managed to relax his grip a bit and enjoy it.

They arrived outside the barracks, alive and in one piece. Trix powered down the swoop and hoped off.

“Thanks for not splattering us on the side of a building,” Tooka said, removing the helmet and hooking it to its holder.

“Any time, Tookie.” She reached up, patting his head. “Looks like you could use a touch-up.”

“Uh, yeah.” He ducked away from her and stood, feeling his cheeks burning. From the wind. “Maybe another time.”

“You can buy the junk yourself, of course,” she said, rummaging through the swoop’s cargo compartment. “But if you want help applying it or whatever, Issa has my comm code. Ah, here we go!”

She pulled out a greasy take-away sack and tossed it at him. He caught it automatically. The smells wafting out of it reminded him he hadn’t had much more than stale bar snacks for dinner.

“What’s this for?”

“Dumplings and spicy noodles,” she said. “I got them for dinner, but then I filled up on jifcake at Wayward, so they’re yours.”

“But-”

“And remember, just because the Jedi have this bullshit about ignoring all your emotions doesn’t mean it applies to you and your brothers.” She tilted her head to look at him. “If you have a problem, talk about it.”

“I don’t-”

“Yeah, yeah.” She rolled her eye. “You’re fine, I know. But if you  _did_ have a problem, I bet you a thousand credits you could find someone willing to listen. Even me, if you’re desperate enough.”

Tooka felt hot and cold. His head was swimming from more than just the two beers he’d had and he wanted to tell her just how wrong she was, except that she wasn’t. Trix might not know what was wrong with him, but he had a feeling she was right about needing to talk to someone. Kriff. He much preferred it when she made everything into a joke and told outlandish stories of her adventures.

“C’mere,” she said, crooking a finger.

Sighing, he bent down closer to her level. She reached up to pat his hair again and his eyes almost drifted closed at the feel of it.  _Comfort_ , he thought. It felt nice when she did that. Safe.

“Take care of yourself, Tookie-cat,” she said, briefly pressing her forehead to his. “Now, go eat your din-din and take a long nap.”

“Wait.” He stepped back, straightening to his full height. “Maybe, uh, maybe you could stay and help me eat it?” He winced, realizing it sounded like a proposition. He just... He realized it might be easier to talk to someone he didn’t have to see every day about the problem that was gnawing away at him. Maybe, if he was really lucky, he’d never even see her again.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” She arched a pale brow at him. “You know me, I can always squeeze in more food. As long as you’re willing to  _share_.”

The way she emphasized the last word told him she knew this wasn’t about food.

“Just as long as you remember that it’s mine, now, so I decide how much you get.”

This was turning into a very weird conversation. Trix smiled at him.

“Of course! Wouldn’t have it any other way.” She gestured towards the entrance. “Let’s see if we can find a place that’s out of the way so you won’t have to share with anyone else.”

He really  _really_  hoped this wasn’t a sex thing.

One of the strategy rooms served as their hideout. The food was laid out along with a couple of cans of fizzpop and some dipping sauces for the dumplings. Most of the meal was taken up by Trix’s chatter, keeping things light and amusing while Tooka savored his impromptu dinner and tried to work out the best way to start talking about his problem. In the end he just blurted it out.

“There’s something wrong with me.” He hunched his shoulders.

“If it’s the noodles, I swear it’s from a respectable vendor.”

He frowned. “No, this isn’t about the food.”

“Or if it’s your face, I can’t help with that, either.” She waved her eating sticks at him.

“No, it’s not-” He clenched his fists. “Look, I don’t like sex, okay?” He braced himself, waiting for the inevitable shock.

Trix tilted her head, giving him a long look-over.

“Okay,” she said. “And?”

He stared at her. “And? And what? I don’t have any interest in sex, even though all my brothers do. That means I’m defective, right?”

Her expression hardened into something predatory.

“What the frip do they teach you in sex ed?” she demanded. “Or do they skip that in favor of telling you how to hold your blaster?” Slamming her eating sticks down she reached across the table, palms up towards him.

“Tooka, cutie, there’s nothing wrong with you and you sure as frip aren’t defective.”

Still wary, he placed his hands into hers and she held on tight.

“There’s about a million different types of sexuality in the galaxy and one whole branch of it involves people who aren’t interested in sex. Or who’re only interested if certain conditions are met.”

“But I’m a clone,” he said, trying to pull away. “I’m supposed to be the same.”

“Banthashit.” She pulled back, not letting him go. “Are all your brothers only interested in men? Or have a kink for lekku? Or can only get it off if there’s sand involved?”

“Sand?!” He stared at her.

“Exactly!” She flipped her hands over to rap his knuckles on the table. “Hell, you don’t all share the same interests in anything else, why should sex be any different?”

“Yeah, but…” He hesitated. What she was saying made sense, but it sounded too simple.

Yeah, but nothing,” she said, rapping his knuckles again before releasing him to dig in the take-away sack. “Stop being stubborn. I hate to break it to you, but you’re normal.”

She pulled out two fortune cookies, tossing one to him.

“Anyway, it isn’t like there’s a solid answer on this stuff anyway. Or that things can’t change. Or that you have to be able to define every aspect of your life right now. How boring would that be?”

Tooka cracked open his cookie, frowning as he read the fortune. “ _It’s always easier to look for the bad than to recognize the good?_ ”

“In bed,” Trix added, waggling her eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She opened her own cookie. “ _Stop meddling in the affairs of others,_ ” she announced. “Ha! As if! Anyway, if you need an example of someone else who isn’t interested in sex- it’s called being ace, by the way- there’s always me.” She gave him a million-watt smile.

“Not interested in- What? But I thought you and-” He broke off, unwilling to admit that he’d joined in the speculation that she was sleeping with their General. “I mean you flirt all the time.”

“Yeah, because flirting is fun.” She crumpled the fortune and flicked it at him. “But that’s as far as it goes, most of the time.”

She tossed the bag and containers into the trash.

“The point is, you do you, Tookie-kins.” She moved behind him, scrubbing his head and planting a glancing kiss to his temple. “Give yourself time to figure out out your wants or not-wants and kark what anyone else might say about it.”

“Yeah, maybe.” It gave him something to think about, anyway.

“Oh and you might wanna turn your comm back on.”

“My comm? I didn’t turn it…” He unclipped it from his belt and saw that it was, indeed, off. The glare he intended to throw at Trix was wasted, however. When he glanced up he was alone and the door was closing.

“Kriff.” He turned it on and was immediately bombarded with messages and missed calls. The first few were from an increasingly-profane Stitch demanding to be told that he hadn’t been on the hoverbus that crashed. Others were from the rest of his squad, apparently as Stitch checked in with them to check up on him.

“ _Kriff,_ ” he repeated with more feeling, remembering Trix’s throwaway comment about having a “bad vibe” at the transit stop. He punched in Stitch’s code and hoped his brothers wouldn’t murder him when they heard what he’d been doing.

It seemed his evening was about to get a lot more interesting.


	5. Reading Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thumper discovers fanfic. Featuring references to SLwalker's Blackbirds.

Thumper first heard about "fanfic” in the mess. He hadn’t been paying close attention because he was supposed to be going over munitions inventory for their next op, but amid the whispered voices behind him his ears caught the phrase “Jedi having sex in the Council room” and that was enough for him to lose interest in his numbers.

It turned out that the discussion wasn’t about  _actual_  Jedi having sex, but some kind of story someone had written about it happening. He chewed lunch carefully, listening until he’d gleaned enough information to do a search, and then he went back to his inventory.

Later, when he had some free time, he used one of the accounts Tooka had set up to let them bypass restrictions for access to the holonet. His idle hunt turned up far more results than he expected. There were  _entire archives_  out there devoted to this stuff; some specific to certain Jedi, some focused more on the clones, and still others that were a generalized free-for-all. It didn’t take long to fall down the proverbial ash-rabbit hole. 

The first thing he did was run a check to make sure nothing was focused on his General. Nothing was, but he quickly realized that pseudonyms were a common thing in the fanfics. Still, the only Nautolan Jedi who showed up was older and male, so it was safe to assume it was General Fisto and not General Mar.

With that weight lifted off his chest Thumper did more investigation. Purely for academic reasons, of course. A lot of the stories he saw were romantic or sexual in nature, but others were more action focused. Or set entirely outside the war in civvie situations. A shocking amount of what he found were stories about the Jedi and their clones. Or the Jedi and other Jedi. Or the clones and pretty much everyone. He’d had no idea so many people thought he and his brothers were attractive.

Over the course of the next few weeks he found himself spending more and more time browsing the various archives before narrowing it down to a select few. He even broke down and created accounts on them just so he could access more stories and leave comments on the ones he liked. His taste tended to lean more towards the “slow burn” romantic stories; something he doubted he’d ever get for himself. But sometimes- especially when the futility of his situation got to be too much- he indulged in more of the straightforward smut fics. 

One series he liked was on the Khameir Sarin Smut Brigade. Khameir was a Zabrak general who seemed very popular, though Thumper couldn’t figure out who his real life counterpart might be. The series he liked was a good mix of smut and romance. The writing was rough at times, but it still scratched an it for him and he was about 80% sure that the author was a clone, himself.

He wondered if he should try his hand at writing, too. Except he’d have no idea where to start. And it wasn’t like he liked anyone specific, not like  _that_. He just hoped that some day he might find  _someone_ who not only caught his interest, but who was interested right back. He also hoped his brothers didn’t find out what he was up to online. Or worse, his General. Not that he was afraid she’d be upset, no, if anything she might be a little  _too_ encouraging. So he read and daydreamed and made sure to keep his datapad wiped, just in case.


	6. 5 + 1: Boba and Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word prompt from SLwalker: 5 times Boba avoided a hug and one time he initiated it. (Also features the original short that became Kid, Nabbed)

##  **1.**

Boba glared up at the Jedi standing in the barracks, a blue-skinned Nautolan who introduced herself as Knight Issa Mar. He hated her. He hated her smile and her voice and her kriffing  _nosiness_. She kept asking him questions about himself. The clones were trying to answer most of them, since he refused. Just like he refused to consider them his brothers. He was one of a kind! His father had said so!  _His father._  He felt his lip wobble and thinned his mouth into a straight line. Never let them see you being weak. 

“I don’t need anyone,” he snapped, hating the waver in his voice. “Least of all a murdering Jedi!”

“Boba!”

There was a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. The Jedi was still watching him. She knelt, putting them on eye level, and all he wanted to do was punch her in her stupid face.

“I’m very sorry about what happened,” she said, her accent an unfamiliar lilt. “Losing family is never easy and I can’t speak for Master Windu’s actions, but if you want I can pull some strings to make sure you can stay with your brothers. You don’t have to be alone.”

He could feel himself starting to tremble. One of the clones- he refused to remember their names- also knelt, wrapping his arms around him.

“We’ll be your family now, Bo’ika.”

He pulled free of the embrace, whirling to face the clones. 

“Leave me alone!” he shouted. “I hate you! All of you!”

“Boba,” the Jedi started.

With a wordless yell Boba shoved his way through the clones and flung himself on the bunk they’d given him, burying his face in the pillow so they wouldn’t hear him cry.

“Don’t worry,” the Jedi said. “Just give him some time.”

_Never_ , he promised himself.  _Never ever ever._

##  **2.**  

He could hear his father calling for him, but no matter how hard he ran he couldn’t seem to catch up. Something was wrong. His father was in trouble. He  _needed_ him!

Boba was lost in a maze of twisting corridors, but at last managed to break free into a vast arena full of people. Everyone was fighting. Bodies littered the ground, making him trip as he headed towards the sound of his father’s voice, but he never slowed down, not once.

At last he stepped into a clear space and saw his father standing there, facing away from him.

“Dad!”

Jango lurched around, his movements jerky. Boba skidded to a stop, watching as his father reached up to pull off his helmet.

There was nothing underneath. Just empty air where his head should have been.

Boba felt rooted to the spot. He couldn’t move. Something bumped against his foot and he looked down to see his father’s head staring up at him.

“Where were you when I needed you?” Blood bubbled from his lips.

Boba screamed.

Lights flashed on and someone was sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling him into a hug.

“It’s okay, Boba, I’ve got you.”

Dad, he thought, burrowing closer. But he smelled wrong and after a minute he remembered the truth, shoving Tooka away.

“I’m fine,” he said, inhaling a sob. “Go away.”

“It was just a nightmare,” Tooka said. “It’s okay if you need-”

“I’m fine,” Boba repeated, curling himself into a ball as far away from the clone as he could get.

He stayed tense even after the clone sighed and stood up, moving away to discuss things with the others. He concentrated on his breathing and refused to listen to them worrying about him. He didn’t need them. He never asked for  _any_ of this.

It was a long time before he fell back asleep.

##  **3.**

His head felt like it was stuffed full of Thumper’s dirty socks. Everything ached: eyes, nose, throat, stomach, even his hair hurt. He shivered, sitting on the cold exam table while Stitch examined the results of the tests he’d insisted on running.

“Congratulations, Bo,” he said, running his fingers through Boba’s damp hair. “It looks like you caught yourself Corellian Fever.”

“I’m fine,” Boba croaked. 

“You aren’t, but you will be.” Stitch pressed a hypo to Boba’s neck and he felt a pleasant warmth seep into him even as he shivered again.

“This should help with the worst of the symptoms,” he said. Be sure to get plenty of rest- no working out with the squad, got it?”

“But-”

“And be sure to drink plenty of liquids. I know the vita-drinks taste like shit, but you need them right now.”

Boba snuffled, trying to wipe his nose on his arm, but Stitch handed him a tissue.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, huddling in on himself.

“You know, if you aren’t careful ‘Fine’ is gonna wind up being your new nickname.”

“Better than ‘Runt’,” he complained.

Stitch laughed, pulling a blanket out of a drawer and wrapping him in it. It had been warmed and Boba struggled against suddenly-drooping eyes.

“Keep that fighting spirit.”

He felt himself being picked up and carried. His head rested against Stitch’s shoulder and it was tempting to just stay like that, but he wriggled until the clone put him down.

“I c’n get back on m’own,” he announced.

“I’m sure you can.” Stitch sounded amused. “But why don’t I walk you back anyway so no one trips over you.”

Boba harrumphed but didn’t try to stop him as he shuffled his way back to his bunk. If there was occasionally a hand at his back guiding him, he could ignore it.

##  **4.**

Boba fought against the restraints to no avail. The Trandoshan holding him shook him.

“Knock if off, kid!” he hissed. “Jusst because Aurra wantsss you alive doesn’t mean you have to be in one piece!”

Boba kicked at him, yelling obscenities that were muffled by the gag in his mouth.”

Aurra was the chalk-skinned female with the ridiculous ponytail and a spike in her head who’d shown up claiming to be a friend of his father’s. Boba had gone along with it at first. She didn’t look familiar, but his dad knew a lot of people. But then she’d started talking about how his father had made her promise to take care of him if anything should happen and that... didn’t sound right. His dad would’ve mentioned something like that. Or he thought he might. Maybe. There should’ve been a code so he’d know to recognize her, but she’d claimed there hadn’t been time.

She also kept asking him about his dad’s ship and some kind of fortune. Boba didn’t know about any money, but he knew where  _Slave 1_  was hidden and knew all the codes to bypass security to get in, but she seemed way more interested in the ship than in him. And then the squad had shown up and all hell had broken loose.

Aurra had started firing at them and when he’d tried to protest she’d shoved him at the Trandoshan, who’d bound him up and now they were on the run with his b- with the clones in pursuit. He had to do something to stop this. His father had told him lots about what to do if he got captured, but these bounty hunters seemed to know most of the same tricks. They were in a hurry, though, so he thought he could find some wiggle room. He also put it together with a few things that Smokey had been talking about and came up with a plan.

Getting the cords off wasn’t going to work, but all he really needed to do was stall them until help arrived. He increased his struggles and made gagging sounds before going limp. The Trandoshan swore, pulling him up to face level to see what was wrong. Boba waited until the last moment and then lifted his head, smashing it into the Trandoshan’s face.

It hurt like hell and he could feel himself bleeding, but it had the desired effect; the Trandoshan yelled and dropped him. He rolled out of reach as fast as he could, feeling rain and who knew what else soaking into his clothes.

“Can’t you even keep track of one stupid brat?”

He recognized Aurra’s chilly voice and saw a hand reaching for him, but then there was the snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting and the alleyway was cast in a yellow glow.

“Step away from the boy, now.”

If he’d thought Aurra’s voice was chilly, Issa’s was a cold as space itself. He twisted his head around in surprise, catching her from the corner of his eye as she launched herself at his abductors. Blaster fire deflected all around them. He shifted, trying to get a better view, and heard someone yell in pain. More fighting, a grunt, and then the sound of someone running away.

Bootheels approached and he righted himself in time to see the Jedi kneeling beside him.

“Runt, did they hurt you?”

“Mmph.”

The lightsaber was switched off and swapped for a vibroblade. She cut the gag and the cords from him, helping him sit up.

“They didn’t hurt me,” he said, as the rest of the squad arrived. “I’m f- I’m alright,” he amended, as Stitch skidded to a stop beside them.

“Good.” The Jedi grinned, pulling him into a hug. “That was some quick thinking there with the distraction.”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling himself away. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

She laughed. “I know you aren’t. That’s why I trust you.” 

She stood, ruffling his hair, and he ducked away from that, too, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his chest. She was a  _Jedi_. And she’d  _saved_ him. But it didn’t mean anything, not really. Just because she was nice now  ~~and had been nice all along~~  didn’t mean she’d be nice later. Nope, he wasn’t falling for this act at all.

##  **5.**

 It had taken some time to manage, but Issa had finally found them an assignment close enough to where  _Slave 1_  was hidden that the squad could make a side trip to investigate.

The outside showed signs of attempts to break in, but Jango’s security measures had held. Boba had input the right codes, said the right phrases, and gotten his eye scanned and now he was standing in the hold of his father’s ship. 

The air was stale with disuse, but it still smelled like home. Like his father. He blinked several times against the dust and headed deeper into the ship. He touched a wall, here, where Jango had leaned when recounting an adventure where he’d outsmarted the Hutts. He ran his fingers along the table where they’d shared so many meals together. And here was a scratch in the floor from the time he’d dropped Jango’s jetpack.

Mimic and Tooka trailed behind him, silent, as he made his way through the ship to the living quarters. Some of Jango’s shirts still hung in the tiny closet. Boba pulled one out and slipped it over his head. It was far too large for him, but it didn’t matter. It still smelled like Dad and he could almost feel his presence in the room with them.

Wiping at his eyes he made his way into the cockpit. That’s when he found something unexpected. A holobook, propped on the pilot’s chair. It appeared to be locked, but opened when he pressed his thumb to the switch. His father’s voice suddenly filled the air, welcoming him and apologizing for not being there, himself.

It was too much. Something in his chest broke and he was sobbing, eyes blurring as tears coursed down his cheeks.

“Hey, Runt. Bo. We’re right here if you need us.”

Mimic’s hand rubbed at his back and he could sense Tooka reaching for him, but he shrugged them off, stepping forward as he hugged the book to his chest.

“I... I just need some time. Please.”

“Yeah, sure, okay, vod’ika,” Mimic said. “We’ll be right outside, yeah?”

“But-” Tooka started.

“C’mon, Tooka, let’s go.”

He waited until their steps faded and then he sat in the pilot’s seat, where his dad had taught him how to fly, and he cried. He cried for the loss of his father, for the future they might have had, and for all the times he’d never said “I love you.”

It had been understood, of course, but sometimes... sometimes saying the words still mattered. Just as cherishing the time you had together was important, because you never knew when it was going to be over.

Boba cried until there were no more tears left, listening again to his father’s voice and vowing to do better than he had. The ship was his, now, and he’d make sure that meant something.

##  **+1.**

Boba rushed through the docking procedures, barely waiting for the light to turn green before hurling himself through the airlock and into the corridor beyond. He knew the layout by heart and ran all the way to the medbay only to be stopped by the rest of the squad.

“Easy, Runt,” Thumper said, grabbing him. “You can’t go in.”

“But I have to!” He fought against Thumper’s hold.

“Stitch is in with him now,” Mimic said, starting to kneel but then flat-out sitting on the floor. He winced, pressing a hand to his side. “He’s in the best hands, don’t worry.”

“But it’s my fault! I have to go see him!”

He managed to break free from Thumper only to be caught by Smokey, still armored and on his knees, blocking the way to the door.

“It’s not your fault, Runt,” he said, looking him in the eye. “He knows that and you should know it, too.”

“But I wasn’t fast enough! If I’d just gotten there sooner-”

“You got there as fast as you could,” Smokey said, the usual rasp in his voice sounding softer. “In fact if it wasn’t for you we probably wouldn’t have recovered him at all.”

Boba blinked away tears. No matter what they said, he knew it was still his fault. Tooka had needed him and he hadn’t gotten there in time. And now Tooka was hurt and in surgery and what if he didn’t make it??

“His injuries weren’t that bad,” Thumper said, but he sounded uncertain.

“It’ll take more than a little shelling to kill that fripper,” Mimic added. “After all, he’s a Tooka; they’ve got nine lives.”

Smokey pressed his forehead to Boba’s and closed his eyes.

“Breathe with me, Runt,” he said.

Boba wanted to yell and hit and fight his way into the medbay, but he listened to the Commander, closing his eyes and taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“That’s it,” Smokey said. “Again.”

After a few minutes he felt calmer and opened his eyes again.

“Where’s the General?”

“She’s in with Stitch.” Smokey smiled, the scarred half of his mouth twitching down. “She’s good with the healing stuff, even if she doesn’t use it often.”

Boba chewed his bottom lip, wondering if that was a good thing or a bad one. He went over to sit by Mimic. Thumper joined them, and then Smokey. They waited, sometimes trading quips, but mostly quiet.

At last the doors slid open, revealing a tired but smiling Stitch.

“He’s okay and he’s awake if you want to see-”

Boba shot past him, zeroing in on the bed that contained the injured Tooka.

“Heyyy, little Runt,” he said, eyes glassy and words slightly slurred. “Thanks f’r the assist out th- oof!”

Boba all but slammed into him, hugging him tight. Tooka wheezed.

“Easy there,” Stitch said behind him. “Don’t undo all our good work.”

“Yeah, let me keep my insides inside,” Tooka teased, returning the hug.

“I’m sorry,” Boba said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time.”

“Hey now,” Tooka said, resting his chin on Boba’s head. “You were there in plenty of time. Faster than anyone else coulda done it.”

“Your reflexes were nearly Jedi-like,” Issa said. “And I don’t think I’d have been any faster.”

Boba didn’t bother looking for her to glare at her. In fact he wasn’t sure he even wanted to glare at her. He kept hugging Tooka, ignoring the sickly sweet smell of bacta.

“I love you,” he murmured into Tooka’s chest.

He felt Tooka stiffen, and then his brother was planting a kiss on the  top of his head.

“Hey, I love you, too, Boba.” He sniffled. “Kriff, these drugs are making me cry.”

Feet scuffled into the room.

“I don’t think it’s the drugs, Tooka,” Thumper said. “You’re sappy by nature.”

“Kiss my shebs, Thump.”

“I thought you weren’t into that.”

Boba let the good-natured bickering wash over him. He’d get around to hugging the others later, but for now he leaned against Tooka and listened to the reassuring sound of his heartbeat. He was alive. They were alive. And maybe Boba still had a family after all.


	7. Friendly Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word prompt from SLwalker: friendly fire, featuring Tooka and Boba.

Tooka wondered if all Jedi considered it a good thing to be chased by battledroids or if Surge Squad had just lucked out with General Mar.

“It means we’re on the right track,” she’d said, grinning as she ignited her saber and entered the fray.

Shaking his head, he crouched behind a rock and lined up his shot. The droid was standing out in the open, practically begging to be targeted. Tooka was only too happy to oblige.

Boba ran into view as he was squeezing the trigger and his heart stopped in his chest as the shot meant for the droid hit his baby brother instead.

Boba pitched forward, landing in the dirt. He wasn’t moving. 

“No.” He lurched up, barely aware of the blaster dropping from his nerveless fingers. “No, no, no, that wasn’t… that wasn’t…”

Stitch was already running, Thumper and Smokey providing cover fire as he scooped up the small figure in cadet-size armor and ran for shelter. The remaining three droids blew up as Mimic fragged them.

“No, no, no.” Tooka’s legs didn’t seem to be working right. He was distantly aware of shouting on the comm line, Thumper demanding to know what happened, Smokey telling everyone to calm down, and Stitch assuring everyone that Boba was fine- or would be fine- and that the shot had merely knocked him out. It all blurred together in gibberish, though. He kept seeing his own hands take the shot and seeing Boba collapse. Over and over again. He was so tiny…

_“Tooka?”_

His finger squeezed the trigger and Boba fell to the ground.

_“Tooka? I need you to look at me.”_

He squeezed the trigger and Boba fell and didn’t move again.

_“Tooka!”_

Warm hands on his face. When had his helmet come off? But it didn’t matter because he squeezed the trigger and Boba fell.

_“Tooka, breathe! That’s an order!”_

Boba fell and was so still in the dirt. But the General was yelling at him. Ordering him. He tried to obey, but nothing was working right and Boba wasn’t moving and everything was so tight…

_“Breathe!”_

There was a hand on his chest now and heat was pouring into him and he squeezed the trigger and something snapped and he dragged air into his lungs and Boba… Boba…

The air whooshed out of him again in a racking sob. Tears burned his eyes, but all he could see was- was- his General, her forehead pressed against his as she reassured him over and over again that Boba was okay, that he was already waking up and that he was swearing at everyone. But that couldn’t be right because he’d pulled the trigger and- and-

He cried harder as she hugged him and wrapped his own arms around her so he wouldn’t collapse, just the way Boba had-

But Boba was fine. Mar said he was fine and she wouldn’t lie about that even though he’d pulled the trigger and-

“It’s okay, vod.” 

Another soft voice. Not his General’s. Stitch. The small armored body falling to the ground and he shot- he shot-

“He’s pissy as hell and blaming you for ruining his shot,” Stitch said, fingers stroking the tooka spots on the side of his head.

He managed to draw a deep breath. And another. Salt, ozone, and fresh laundry; the unique scent of his General. He pulled back, suddenly embarrassed. He was being unprofessional. This isn’t what being a good soldier was about. But he’d squeezed the trigger and-

Mar cupped his cheek in her hand, smiling, and he felt a little more of that warmth seeping into him.

“You okay now, Tooka?”

“No,” he said, with what was probably too much honesty. “But I’ll get there.”

Her smile widened to a grin. “Good. Let’s get you and the Runt back to the shuttle. Mimic and the others can finish cleaning up without us.”

“I should help, too,” he said.

“You’re helping me.” Stitch swatted the back of his head. “Pick up your gear and let’s go before that little brat runs off and gets into even bigger trouble.”

“Yeah… okay.”

He struggled back into the chestplate Mar had apparently ripped off him, retrieved his helmet and blaster rifle, and followed along behind Mar and Stitch as they headed towards Boba. He was no longer lifeless on the ground, but sitting up and glowering at them all. Tooka wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a more welcome sight.


	8. Mute Appeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A soldier who can't talk is no good to the GAR, but there's one General who might be interested. (Introducing: Jaws)

Jaws clenched his hands, trying to limit the shaking. He stood at attention, back ramrod straight and eyes forward, seeing nothing of the room around him. He knew what was going to happen. It was the only thing that could happen; it was what he deserved. What use was a clone who couldn’t talk? What good was a clone who flinched at loud noises?

He’d seen the pitying looks and carefully averted gazes of the troopers who’d brought him in. Sole survivor. What squadron would want a clone who’d let his General die? Who’d let his brothers die? No General would want him, either, and he couldn’t blame them for that. All that was left now was the long, cold trip back to Kamino for decommissioning.

The door opened and he flinched before he could stop himself. The figure who entered wasn’t the guard, though, it was a blue-skinned nautolan in Jedi robes. He snapped a salute even as fear bloomed in his chest. Why had they sent a Jedi? Was this some final humiliation to prove he was defective?

“CC-1975,” she said, her accent containing more of a swoop than he was used to. “But you like to be called Jaws, right?”

His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth, not that he would have been able to say anything anyway. He managed a jerky nod and was rewarded with one of the warmest smiles he’d ever seen. Even the chill in the air seemed to retreat a degree or two.

“I’m Kni- General Issa Mar. I understand you’re looking for a new squad to join?”

He stared at her, trying to put the words together in a way that made sense. A squad? Him? No. He was being decommissioned, not reassigned.

She raised her hand and- he felt his jaw drop as she used clone sign.

_< <Join up?>>_ A tilt of her head made it a question. She was still smiling, though it was more contained, now. 

_< <Repeat,>>_ Jaws signed, sure he must be misunderstanding. Or she’d gotten mixed up.

_< <Join up. 404. Me.>>_

The 404th must be her division. Did he know them? He didn’t think so, but his head was spinning, making it hard to concentrate.  _Was she actually...? Did she understand what she was saying? What she was_ offering?

The shaking in his hands spread to the rest of his body. General Mar stepped closer and opened her arms. He tried to take a step and faltered, but the General was right there to catch him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. He clung to her, unprofessional in the extreme, unable to stop the flood of hot tears. He was making a terrible first impression on the Jedi who might be saving his life, but all she did was rub his back and make soothing noises. He felt her tap a quick beat against his shoulder; the rhythm for “home.”

Clinging to her, head bowed to rest on her shoulder, he nodded. “Home,” he tapped back. And for the first time since the ambush had upended his life he thought maybe things might be okay.


	9. Adopt a Trooper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thumper finds a penpal (holopal?) in a young refugee on Alderaan.

Thumper checked the settings on the holopad one final time, admitting to himself that he was just stalling. He hadn’t even heard of the “Adopt a Trooper” program until he’d received the introductory packet saying he’d been accepted and telling him about the young girl he’d been assigned to- or “adopted by,” as the packet called it.

Who’d put in his name? And why? He wasn’t anything special. Hell, Surge Squad didn’t even see that much action. The kids signing up for this probably wanted troopers in the thick of the war; heroes. He wasn’t anything like that. But he had to do something or he’d disappoint Brinna, a young Mirialan girl who’d been evacuated to Alderaan along with her family when the Separatists took over her world. She deserved something nice. He’d just have to figure out something. Taking a deep breath he hit record and smiled for the camera.

“Hi, Brinna! My name’s Thumper, and I guess you’re my  _vod’ika_  now, huh? Uh, that means ‘little sister’ in Madalorian…”

* * *

 

Several weeks and millions of miles later Brinna hit “play” on the recording for the dozenth time and smiled back at her new  _ori’vod_ , which meant “older brother” in the language of the clones. She’d never had a brother before, but she loved him already.

“I’m afraid Surge Squad doesn’t see a lot of fighting. Or at least not like the battles you hear about on the news.” His holoimage grimaced. “Or like the fighting you probably saw on Grange.”

Brinna leaned back on her pillows and watched as Thumper introduced her to the rest of the squad. Mimic did silly voices for her and Stitch told her gross medical stuff. Tooka was draped between a couple of packing crates, sound asleep.

“You’ll never guess how he got his name,” Thumper joked.

Brinna giggled as Tooka woke enough to make a rude gesture, but then they moved on to Jaws, who demonstrated a couple of real hand signs. Jaws had been through something traumatic just like she had, only it left him unable to talk. She had already looked up sign languages on the holonet and was determined to learn more about them.

Commander Smokey looked intimidating with all the scarring from the fire, but he had a nice voice and told her a really dumb joke that made her laugh every time.

General Mar was a beautiful nautolan Jedi who made Thumper blush by boasting about how creative he was with words. There was a young boy skulking around the edges, too. Thumper said his name was Runt and that he was a clone cadet who was with them for “special reasons.” 

Brinna was looking forward to learning more about all of them, but especially Thumper. Tomin could gloat about being paired with a clone from the 501st and Lunzie could act as if  getting paired with a commander made her more important than everyone, but Brinna knew she’d gotten the best trooper of all of them. Thumper might not be from a famous battalion and he might not be a leader, but he was sweet and funny and he called her his sister. No one else had earned that honor. She was already working out how to respond and had gotten permission to put together a care package for her  _ori’vod_  and his squad. They were hers now; she’d take good care of them.


	10. 33%

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off the prompt "33%." This skims some highlights of a typical mission for Surge Squad.

“File’s at 33%,” Mimic said.

“I don’t suppose you could get it to download faster, could you?” Issa asked, a little wistful.

“I dunno, sir, why don’t you use the Force to make that happen?”

She snorted. “Point taken.”

There was a crash in the distance and the sound of tinkling glass.

“At least Runt’s having fun.” Mimic grinned.

Boba was providing their distraction while they worked to gather evidence that the Viscount of Valahari was secretly aiding the Separatists. It was something the Senate had long suspected, but now Issa and her team would be able to provide proof. If the file ever finished downloading.

“42%,” Mimic said.

Screams could be heard along with the unmistakable wail of a fire alarm.

When Issa had first told Boba what his job would be for the mission, he'd been offended. 

“I’m not a baby!”

“That’s why you’re perfect for this,” Issa had told him. “You’re highly competent and quick-thinking, but the Viscount’s staff is only going to see a youngling and never realize what a true threat you are.”

He’d given her a narrow-eyed look and she’d almost been able to feel him weighing her words. In the end he smirked.

“If it’s a spoiled brat you want, then it’s a spoiled brat they’re going to get.”

From the sound of things below, he was surpassing even her expectations. She lifted her comm.

“Tooka, how are things going?”

From his spot under the staircase, Tooka wiped water out of his eyes and surveyed the scene.

“Have I mentioned how glad I am that Runt’s on our side?”

The sprinklers had come on after Boba had somehow managed to set one of the tables on fire. The stained glass window, which at one point had depicted the Viscount standing in a heroic pose, was now a rainbow of shards scattered across the floor. One statue was down and decapitated and an ornamental vase was wobbling on its pedestal. He relayed all this to Mar, adding the vase to Boba’s tally as the little hellion made another pass through to room, screaming.

_“And Thumper?”_

Tooka grinned. “He coulda been an actor. He’s chasing after B- Runt like an underpaid nanny and managing to foil any attempts to capture him.”

He winced in sympathy as his brother “tripped” over a rug and flung up his hands, catching one of the guards right in the eye. The guard went down and Thumper apologized profusely as he continued to chase Boba around the room.

The Viscount himself was off to one side, screaming invectives at his staff, at Boba, at Thumper, and at the world in general. His face was bordering on purple at this point, which matched his sodden robes.He held an ornamental plate over his head (one of the few Boba hadn’t broken yet) in a vain attempt to keep dry.

“As long as His Royal Kriffness doesn’t leave in a huff, we should be- oh, frip!”

_“Is something wrong?”_

“No!” Tooka waded out into the chaos. “No, everything’s fine! Hurry up with the download, though!”

_“Is that_ barking _I hear?”_  Mar demanded.

“Can’t hear ya! Gotta go!” Tooka cut the comm and immediately switched to a private channel. “Stitch! What do you know about anoobas?”

Across the compound near the hangar, Stitch raised a hand, interrupting the conversation in front of him. Jaws and the wookiee mechanic from the docking area turned to look at him.

“Are those the guard anoobas from the intel? Don’t mess with them,” he said.

Jaws went saucer-eyed and Jowaddik crooned, patting him on the head.

_“Too late!”_  Tooka said.  _“What else?”_

Barking, screams, and blasterfire could be heard in the background of his reply. Stitch sighed. At least _their_ part of the mission had gone off without a hitch, though they  _had_  been caught sabotaging any potential pursuit vehicles… by Jowaddik, who hated xir company, hated the Viscount, and had been instantly enthralled by Jaws and his handsigns. Xe was more than happy to help them in exchange for some supplies off their ship and a few lessons in clone sign. Xe was currently teaching Stitch and Jaws some Galactic Basic Sign, which xe used in place of a translator box. The lessons were going well, but now he switched mental gears, trying to recall what he knew of anoobas.

“Is there any food nearby? They tend to think with their stomachs. Everything else okay?”

It was a coded way of asking if anyone was hurt. A full-grown anooba would be almost as big as Boba. 

_“Oh yeah, should be done here soon. CHEESE PLATE!”_

The signal cut out. 

<<Everything OK?>> Jaws signed.

“As long as anoobas aren’t lactose intolerant.” He smiled reassurance. Considering what had happened to his last squad it wasn’t surprising that Jaws still got nervous when things didn’t go according to plan. Now that he was with Surge, he'd get used to it soon enough.

Jowaddik chuckled.

<<I had an anooba once,>> xe signed, spelling out the word and then making an “A” accompanied by an approximation of anooba jaws with an upward-thrusting tusk. <<She would eat an entire block of cheese if you let her and then be sick later.>>

“That sounds promising, I guess.” Stitch shook his head. “We should be gone before that happens, anyway.”

<<Before that, one more request?>> Xe tilted xir head to indicate a question and turned to face Jaws more fully. <<You can say no. I understand.>>

<<What is it?>> Jaws used GBS first and repeated it in Clone Sign to make sure he got it right.

Jowaddik shuffled xir feet, hunching xir shoulders in an effort to appear smaller. If Stitch didn’t know better he’d say xe was nervous.

<<May I have a ???>> Xe made a quick tapping motion against xir mouth that Stitch couldn’t catch. Jaws looked to him for help and he shrugged. Maybe xe wanted more ration bars?

<<What is->> Jaws tried to repeat the gesture.

Jowaddik made a strangled sound, tugging on xir head fur. After a moment xe started spelling.

<<K-I-S-S.>>

“Right!” Stitch tried unsuccessfully to smother a grin. “That’s my cue to go check on the ship!”

Jaws was blushing so hard it was a wonder he didn’t pass out. He and Jowaddik both tried to sign at each other with shaking hands, making their words hard to understand. Stitch turned his back on them and headed back to the dropship to check on Smokey and Bogey, their borrowed pilot. He resisted the urge to turn back to see what was happening. His brother deserved some privacy.

He knocked on the hatch as he entered. “Everyone alive in here?”

In the cockpit Commander Smokey leaned back in the pilot’s seat and rubbed his aching temples.

“So far,” he called back. 

Beside him, Bogey chuckled.

“Had enough learning for now?”

Smokey stared at the controls in front of him and gave a slow nod. None of the surviving members of Surge Squad were pilots. Gremlin had been shot down over Geonosis along with the rest of their brothers, and while they’d been managing well enough borrowing rides here and there, he was beginning to think it’d be useful if  _one_  of them knew how to fly. At least for emergencies.

“Gonna prep things back here just in case,” Stitch said, still in the loading area. “If Thumper calls asking about keeping an anooba, tell him no!”

There’d already been some chatter about anoobas on the general channel, so Smokey just shook his head and glanced at Bogey.

“Would you be willing to talk to General Mar when she gets back? I give you my word she’ll listen and keep anything said in confidence.”

Bogey’s expression went shuttered, and he looked away, staring out the viewport.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, bland and non-committal.

Smokey nodded; it was the best he could hope for right now.

This time around their transportation had been aboard the _Duress_ , under the command of General Stronzo. Their reception had been… frosty, and Stronzo had made it clear he didn’t appreciate having to go out of his way for a bunch of “cursed castoffs” and their "jumped-up Knight." Mar had gotten more and more cheerful as their flight progressed, but the way the stripes on her  _ahwey_  pulsed made it clear how angry she was.

Even the 127th Battalion was withdrawn and took steps to avoid them. All but Captain Bogey, whose broken arm made him “useless” for combat. Stronzo had still been reluctant to loan him to Surge Squad for their mission while he and his men continued onward for deployment to the Hexus System, but in the end, Mar's aggressive optimism had won.

Surge Squad was used to its odd reputation, but something felt off on the  _Duress_ , and Mar had agreed. They’d all engaged in a bit of discreet investigation, but hadn’t found much before arriving at Valahari. Hence another reason for Smokey to develop a sudden interest in piloting. It absolutely _was_ a skill he wanted to learn, but it also allowed him plenty of one-on-one time with Bogey while everyone else was occupied with the mission.

What he’d learned was alarming. Only 33% of Stronzo’s original clone force remained; the rest were replacements- and replacements of replacements. Bogey himself was relatively new to the 127th and had lost several batchmates while serving under Stronzo’s command. Mar was going to hit the roof when she heard. He’d never been more relieved to have her as his General than he was right now.

Mar cared about them. It had been obvious from the start when she’d been willing to accept Boba into their ranks and cover for them, but the more time they spent with her the deeper the bond seemed to go. Smokey wasn’t sure what the other Generals were like, but he was willing to bet they got one of the better ones. And from the sound of it, Bogey got one of the worst.

He turned the chair and reached out, cupping the back of Bogey’s head and leaning forward until their foreheads touched.

“Just remember, you’re not alone in this. Whatever you decide, you’ll have help.”

Reaching out awkwardly with his good hand, Bogey clasped him back.

“Thanks, vod. I-”

Smokey’s comm crackled to life.

“INCOMING!” Mimic shouted, his voice echoing through Stitch’s comm in the hold as well.

Smokey stood, drawing his blaster as the sound of an approaching firefight reached them. He headed for the back of the ship as Jaws stumbled in, face bright red, but firing out the open back of the ship.

The wookiee mechanic that Jaws and Stitch had been conspiring with roared and the floor of the ship vibrated from a nearby explosion. Thumper whooped over the comm.

“Yeah, sweetheart! Kamino Ka-blammo!”

Smokey joined Jaws in providing cover fire, taking note of the plume of smoke curling from the windows of the palace. Tooka had Boba draped over his shoulder as he ran, their youngest brother firing wildly back at their pursuers while Mar’s saber flashed in a golden arc, deflecting any shots coming their way.

The engines thrummed to life as the rest of the squad piled in. Stitch slammed the button to close the ramp as Mar shouted for Bogey to take off. Thumper tripped and hit the floor with Mimic landing on top of him, but they were both laughing. Mar’s grin was almost as bright as her saber had been. Boba wriggled free from Tooka’s grip and ran small circles around the cargo area.

“I was the most onboxious brat ever!”

“Yes, you were!” Tooka held out his hand and Boba slapped it as he ran past.

It was a happy scene. Mar praised everyone, including Bogey, and Boba slowed down long enough to start giving a blow-by-blow of his part in their adventure. Smokey leaned against the wall and watched. Somehow, they’d managed to come through another mission intact, gotten the intel they needed, and made some new friends along the way. He could talk to the General later. For now, it was time to celebrate.


	11. Bottled Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surge Squad is playing a rather silly game of spin the bottle (with exactly the kind of obnoxious brotherly behavior you'd expect) when things go awry for Mimic. Why did Trix have to walk in the room right then? And why did she have to agree to play along?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two stories in one night! Wow! Mostly because I forgot to add the previous bit back when I wrote it. Whoops!

The bottle wobbled to a stop in front of Stitch, who leered at groaning Thumper. Mimic pounded his shoulder in sympathy, but it didn’t stop him from laughing at his brother’s expense.

“You want male, female, enby, or kisser’s choice?” Stitch asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Mimic wheezed. This was too, too good.

“None of the above!” Thumper waved his hands as if warding him off. “Can I pass?”

“You can, but you have to pay the price! Which is...?” Stitch glanced at Smokey, who was already digging through the bowl full of “punishments.” 

Their Commander glanced at the scrap and snorted before reading it to the rest of them. “Clean the squad’s armor for a week!”

Mimic cackled as Thumper put his head in his hands, bemoaning his cruel fate while the others jeered at him. Even Boba pointed and laughed.

“Fine,” Thumper said. “Girl, I guess.”

“Oooh, Thumper!” Stitch cooed in a high falsetto as he stood and sashayed around the table. Mimic hastily shoved his chair out of the way.

“Do they call you that because you have such big feet?” Stitch fluttered his eyelashes. 

“I should’ve picked the armor,” Thumper complained, but he was giggling, too. “I mean, uh, yeah! Big feet! That’s me!”

“Gimme a kiss, big boy!” Stitch leaned down and placed a wet, smacking kiss on Thumper’s cheek. “Mwah!”

Tooka snapped a holo to preserve the moment and then Stitch was sauntering back to his seat, fanning himself while Thumper scrubbed at his cheek.

“Yuck!” Boba said, wrinkling his nose and laughing.

Mimic was next and was already pretty sure he’d just take the punishment, whatever it was. He spun the bottle just as Trix sauntered into the lounge.

The bottle, of course, stopped in the space between Tooka and Jaws. Right at the spot where Trix was grabbing a bag of chips from the cabinet. The table roared with laughter. Tooka and Jaws leaned out of the way to make it even more obvious.

Mimic flushed hot and cold, heart thudding wildly as Trix turned to see what was happening. He made a wild snatch for the bottle, but Thumper got there first, his hand locking it into position.

“No! No, that doesn’t count! Let me go again!”

“The bottle has spoken, Mimic.” Thumper grinned at him. “Not so funny now, is it?”

“What’s going on?” Trix walked closer, stuffing a few more chips into her mouth. “Or is this one of those ‘maintain plausible deniability’ things?”

“Nothing!” Mimic said. “Nothing’s going on! Just... nothing!”

“We’re teaching Boba how to play spin the bottle,” Smokey said, ignoring him.

Trix clutched her chest, gasping dramatically. “Contributing to the delinquency of a child? For shame!”

“I’m not a child,” Boba complained.

“There are rules, of course,” Stitch said. “And we’re teaching consent, too.”

“Oh, well, delinquency away, then!” Trix grinned. “Who’s the victim this time?”

Everyone pointed at Mimic, who was beginning to feel lightheaded. Jaws indicated the bottle and pointed at Trix, who laughed.

“Me?”

“No!” Mimic said, finding his voice again at least. “I mean, it’s okay! You weren’t playing. It’s not important, I can just- I mean, it’s getting kind of late anyway.”

“No, it’s not.” Trix handed her chips to Tooka, who started eating them, himself. “I’m game if you are.” She winked at him. A proper wink this time, since she wasn’t wearing the eyepatch.

“I...” Mimic’s brain froze, caught between something he desperately wanted and something he was desperately afraid of getting.

“He’s game.” Thumper gave him a little shove.

He rocketed to his feet as Trix came closer, dusting her hands off on her pants.

“You sure, Mimic?” She arched an eyebrow, dyed pink to match her hair. “You can stop me at any time.”

He nodded, not trusting his voice, and only distantly aware of her lecturing Boba about how consent sometimes meant checking several times. 

And then she was standing right in front of him, close enough to touch, and putting her arms around him. His heart was in his throat as he stared at her. He’d never noticed the little gold flecks in her blue eyes before.

“Ever been dipped before?” She smiled.

“Huh?”

Suddenly he was falling. Except he wasn’t, because Trix’s arms were still around him. He clutched her shoulders, startled, and realized she was the only thing holding him up. Wisps of pink hair tickled at his face.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” she said. “I won’t let you fall.”

And then she kissed him.

It was chaste, of course; just a press of her lips against his, but it seemed to last forever. The sound of cheering was drowned out by the roaring pulse in his ears. His eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed by everything.

At some point in the distant future, the kiss ended, and Trix was helping him stand upright again. He needed the support as he was feeling dizzy and weak in the knees.

“You okay?” Trix asked, rubbing his back.

He nodded, trying to remember how words worked.

“Okay, then!” 

Another quick peck on his cheek almost floored him, and then she was moving away, trying to reclaim her chips from Tooka. He licked his lips, tasting salt and sugar.

“You okay, Mimic?” Thumper murmured.

He licked his lips, tasting salt and sugar, and took a deep breath. He was fairly sure it was his first one since the kiss. Trix was leaving the room, bag in hand.

“Thank you!” He called, and she turned to grin at him.

“Any time, cutie pie!”

With a wave of her hand, she was gone. Mimic collapsed back into his chair.

“Well?” Tooka leaned forward. “How was it? Was it everything you dreamed?”

Stitch had caught his wrist and was checking his pulse. “Pretty sure his heart rate is double right now,” he said. “Breathe, Mimic.”

Mimic took another breath and exhaled, the last of the tension going out of him.

 _I won’t let you fall,_  she’d said, but he’d started falling the first day they’d met. Now, he’d fallen completely.

“I’m in love,” he said. 

Smokey came over to pat his shoulder. “We know, vod, we know.”

Mimic rested his head on the table and sighed. “I’m in love,” he repeated, and wondered what was supposed to happen next.


End file.
